


Bet On It

by Calantha2001



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calantha2001/pseuds/Calantha2001
Summary: The Marines underestimate Daniel and the rest of SG-1.Set prior to Shades of Gray. Tiny spoilers for Broca Divide, Out of Mind, and Into the Fire.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	Bet On It

“Tell me again why I got up early on my day off to come to the pool with you.” Janet Fraiser tucked her belongings into the locker, locked it, and clipped the key to her one-piece swim suit shoulder strap.

Sam Carter shut her locker, clipped her key, and turned on the shower. “So you could look at the three best-looking guys at the SGC in nothing but swim trunks?” She ducked under the warm spray.

Janet turned on the next shower head. “Sam, honey, I’m their doctor. I’ve seen them naked.”

Dutifully showered so the lifeguards wouldn’t give her a dirty look, Sam turned off the water. As soon as Janet finished her quick shower, Sam leaned in and lowered her voice, though they had the women’s locker room all to themselves. “Yes, but today none of them are sick or injured.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Janet chuckled, and they exited the locker room out to the pool deck.

Teal’c was already striding toward the pool and adjusting his swim goggles. He wore black and bright blue trunks and a matching swim shirt in a shark’s tooth pattern to cover his symbiote pouch, and a grey swim cap on his bald head, pulled low on his forehead to conceal his forehead tattoo. “Captain Carter. Doctor Fraiser.” He bowed his head in greeting.

“Hey, Teal’c,” Sam called. The three of them began warming up with gentle arm swings.

In a few hours, the cavernous room of the indoor pool on Peterson would echo with the shrieks of children laughing and parents admonishing kids not to run. This early, however, it was reserved for adult lap swim only. All but lane seven were already in use. Lieutenant Astor was in lane eight, taking a breather and resting her elbows on the edge while she chatted with a female SF in lane nine whose name escaped Sam at the moment. There was too much turbulence in the water for Sam to recognize any of the other swimmers. Two of them, in lane five and six, were heading their way, apparently in a race as they kept checking each other’s progress.

General Kerrigan and one of the math instructors from the Academy were among the dozen or so people relaxing in the whirlpool that was big enough for twenty. It overlooked the lap pool on one side, and the currently silent and still kiddie pool on the other. Kerrigan smiled and waved hello. Sam waved back. 

“I also asked you because the testosterone can get pretty thick,” Sam said softly, gesturing at the racers.

“Why do you guys come here?”

“Colonel O’Neill wants the team to work out together at least once a week when we’re not, uh, deployed. Break up the monotony of our own workouts, he said. I think he also wants to keep an eye on our physical conditioning. The team that’s fit enough to run away lives to fight another day, and all that. But we get to take turns choosing the activity, any activity he said, as long as we break a sweat and it isn’t hiking. Colonel likes to swim. Last week we boxed. Week before we took a yoga class.”

Janet turned to stare at her. “Yoga?”

Sam grinned. 

Finished with his warm up, Teal’c stepped to the edge of the pool and powered into a decent shallow dive in lane seven, and started swimming freestyle toward the far end of the pool.

“Week before that, we all attended a Jazzercise class.”

Janet gaped at her. “Now I know you’re pulling my leg.”

Still grinning, Sam shook her head. “I think Daniel was trying to call the Colonel’s bluff. But the Colonel wasn’t bluffing.”

“Daniel chose it?” Janet’s gaze became distant as she tried to picture it.

“It was horrible, Janet. Awful. Twenty-five women fawning over three guys. ‘Let me help you find a heavier set of weights, Jack,’ and ‘Here’s a mat for you, Daniel.’”

“And I bet the guys ate it up.” 

Sam nodded. “Good workout, though.”

Janet chuckled.

Daniel emerged from the men’s locker room just then, adjusting his swim goggles. “Hey, Sam. Hi, Janet.”

While his vision was briefly blocked, Sam and Janet shamelessly took the opportunity to note how his swim trunks rode low on his slim hips, the blue and green fabric patterned with crashing waves. His pecs flexed with his raised arms as he positioned the goggles just right.

“Day-um,” Janet said under her breath. “Boy’s been working out.”

Sam silently agreed. Field archeology work required a strong back, glutes, and quads. Living in a primitive society for a year, where all labor was manual, had further strengthened him. Though she loved Daniel like a brother, she could still appreciate a fine work of art. Pumping iron with Teal’c several times a week for the last couple years was definitely sculpting his body. He began his warm-up, windmilling his arms forward then backwards, and swung them across his chest and behind his back. He gave his right shoulder a few extra stretches.

“How’s your shoulder, Daniel?” 

“Fine, Janet,” was his reflexive reply that Sam totally expected. A couple weeks ago he’d overtaxed it trying to carry too many samples and books in his pack, and had suffered some bad muscle cramps on the hot hike back to the ‘Gate. He used muscle relaxants to help get to sleep for a couple nights, and said he’d met with the physical therapist as prescribed, but Sam noted he still favored that side.

Janet opened her mouth to call him on it, but the race finished just then with a wave of water sloshing over the deck, splashing Sam and Janet’s feet. Ferretti had time to let out a whoop before Griff came up for air in the next lane, shaking water from his spiky crew cut.

“You owe me ten bucks,” Ferretti said, hopping up to sit at the edge of the pool.

Griff also jumped up to sit on the pool’s edge, and made a show of patting his upper thighs and hips. “Must’ve left my wallet in my other pants.”

“That’s okay,” Ferretti said graciously, climbing to his feet. “I know you’re good for it.” He smiled at Sam and Janet. “Morning, ladies.” He glanced at the pool, noting most of the lanes still occupied, then back at them. “I’m done if you want to use this lane. I’m gonna go soak in the whirlpool.”

“Same here,” Griff said.

“Thanks, guys,” Sam replied. 

Griff and Ferretti each grabbed a folded towel from the stacks scattered on the race starting blocks, and moved off to the whirlpool. Sam turned to Janet. “You and I can share a lane, and Daniel and the Colonel can share the other.”

O’Neill finally came out of the locker room, swim goggles up around his elbow, wearing neon green trunks covered with sharks wearing sunglasses. For some reason the colonel favored trunks that were so loud it was hard to hear him. The smattering of hair on his chest was mostly grey, as was the hair at his temples, but his body was still well toned with a long lean swimmer’s build. Sam opened her mouth to greet him but he put a finger to his lips and shook his head, and made a beeline for Daniel.

Done with his warm-up, Daniel stood at the pool’s edge and made a final adjustment to his goggles. He’d barely had time to lower his arms when O’Neill ran the last three steps, arms straight out, and yelled ”Bonzai!” as he shoved Daniel from behind.

Daniel twisted at the waist and grabbed O’Neill by the wrist and forearm, pulling O’Neill with him as they overbalanced and plunged into the water. Their combined weight and momentum sent them to the bottom of the eight-foot-deep pool. 

Janet put her hand over face, but Sam could tell she was laughing.

The guys pushed and shoved at each other underwater and finally broke the surface many seconds later. “Ass!” Daniel said, and shoved down on O’Neill’s shoulders so the Colonel went under again. Daniel then kicked off from the wall and began his first lap.

O’Neill surfaced and immediately hopped up to sit on the edge of the pool. “Geek,” he said fondly, watching Daniel’s progress. He glanced up at Sam and Janet. “Captain. Doc.”

“Sir.” Sam moved to the open lane, between Daniel and Teal’c, who had turned and was coming back.

Daniel had almost reached the far side. O’Neill stood up, put on his goggles, and curled his toes over the edge. “See you in a few miles,” he said. As soon as Daniel made his turn, O’Neill dove in and started his laps.

“I guess we better start,” Sam said.

Janet was still watching the guys, her gaze switching between Teal’c, then over to Daniel and the Colonel. “What? Oh. Yes.”

Sam chuckled.

“Hey!” Janet said defensively. “You did tell me the primary purpose for being here was to ogle, didn’t you?”

They worked out the details on how to share the lane – each keeping to her own side – and Sam dove in. Someday she’d master the butterfly stroke, but not today. She wasn’t going to risk looking like she was drowning in front of her team. She swam one length freestyle, then a length in breast stroke, then one length on her back, and continued rotating the three strokes to keep boredom at bay.

The water felt good, a cool, gentle caress over her entire body. She luxuriated in the stretch of each stroke and kick, the lack of strain on her joints. A water workout meant sweat didn’t trickle down her back, soak her bra band, or make her scalp itch.

After twenty-one laps, half as many as she intended to complete, she pulled herself up onto the deck, her lower legs dangling in the water, and looked around while she caught her breath.

Teal’c was also sitting on the deck taking a breather. O’Neill was doing the backstroke, about four lengths out. Janet finished her lap and put one hand on the deck but stayed in the water. She twisted so she could watch Daniel, who had just turned at the far end of the pool and was also doing the backstroke. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry. His right arm made a smaller arc than his left.

“His shoulder is still bothering him,” Janet said softly.

Sam nodded. 

O’Neill pulled himself up to sit on the deck and watched Daniel. “Damn shoulder,” he muttered.

Sam and Janet exchanged a small smile. So intent were they on enjoying the view, they didn’t hear anyone approach.

“Colonel O’Neill,” said a familiar baritone voice in greeting.

Sam looked up at the newcomer, and scrambled to her feet the same time as her CO.

“Makepeace,” O’Neill replied. He nodded hello to the rest of SG-3 who stood with their team leader by the pool, all dripping wet in their swim trunks. Lanes one and two were now empty. “Would’ve thought the weight room and a five-mile run was more your style.”

“Webber’s rehab’ing a knee injury.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Sergeant Webber. “This is his last prescribed pool therapy session.”

“Ah,” O’Neill said. “Done that myself a few times.”

Teal’c had climbed out of the pool and now walked over to bow his head in greeting to Johnson, who returned the gesture. Their friendship had gotten off to a rough start, with the way Johnson had attacked Teal’c while Johnson was infected with the Touched virus. But after everyone was cured they became workout partners. They were well matched, similar in size and strength. They would often spot for each other at the bench press.

Makepeace glanced at Daniel, who was climbing out of the pool. “I see you got your whole team here,” Makepeace said. “How about we make things interesting with a race? My team against yours.”

Daniel wandered over, noting how SG-3 was standing across from SG-1. “What’s going on?” He took off his goggles.

“Makepeace and his Marines are challenging us to a race,” O’Neill answered.

“Losing team buys the winners the first round of drinks tonight at Damien’s,” Makepeace said, naming a bar popular with military personnel where the beer was served ice cold and a game of pool only cost a quarter.

Seeing a total lack of enthusiasm on the part of SG-1, Makepeace stuck his chin out. “Unless you’d rather not. Having a female and a civilian on your team would put you at a disadvantage.”

“No it wouldn’t.” O’Neill yawned. “Whaddaya say, kids? Interested in teaching the Marines a lesson?”

“I am ready to do battle,” Teal’c said.

Sam shrugged. “I’m game.”

“Daniel?”

Daniel shook water from his ears and winced as he raised his right shoulder. “I didn’t get as loose as I’d like.”

At the mention of a bet, Ferretti and Griff had detoured from heading for the locker room and drifted toward them, towels slung over their shoulders, hanging on every word but trying to look nonchalant.

“Let me try,” O’Neill said. He moved Daniel sideways, braced him with his arm across Daniel’s chest, hand gripping his far shoulder, and found the sore spot just to the left of Daniel’s right shoulder blade.

“Ow.”

O’Neill dug his knuckles in, applying steady pressure on the knotted muscle.

Daniel lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut, his whole face scrunched in discomfort, softly muttering, “Ow, ow, ow,” until it morphed into a long drawn-out “Ohhh” of relief. O’Neill stepped back and Daniel swung his right arm in a wide circle. “Thanks, Jack.” 

Griff turned to Ferretti, and in a quiet voice said, “I know O’Neill and Jackson push each other’s buttons, but I didn’t know the doc had an actual button O’Neill could push.”

Ferretti laughed. Sam stifled a chuckle.

Daniel faced Makepeace. “I’m not really much of a drinker. More in the mood for a steak.”

Makepeace and his team exchanged grins. “You want to buy the winning team a steak instead of a beer?”

“Losing team buys a steak dinner for each member of the winning team,” Daniel said, his glance taking in Johnson, Webber, and Meyer as well as Makepeace.

“With all the fixings,” O’Neill added. “Loaded baked potato, the works. At O’Malley’s. Not one of those crap chain places.”

Makepeace glanced at his team members. They all nodded. He gave O’Neill a face-splitting grin. “You’re going down, flyboy.”

“In your dreams, jarhead,” O’Neill replied genially.

Janet, who’d been staying off to the side since getting out of the pool, clapped her hands twice. “Okay, boys. And Sam. Each team member swims one lap down and back. Major Griff and Major Ferretti, will you be judges at the other end and see that everyone touches the wall before turning back?”

“Sure thing, Doc,” Ferretti said. He and Griff began the walk around the deck to the far end of the pool.

Such was the power wielded by the chief medical officer at the base, despite her petite five-foot-two frame no one questioned why she took charge of setting the terms of the race.

“Use the starting blocks so no one dives on top of someone else,” Janet continued. “I’m off duty. Make sure your team mate touches the wall before you jump in or your team will forfeit. Is that understood?”

There was a rumble of agreement. Other people had drifted toward their group, everyone had exited the pool, and Sam thought she heard a couple side bets being made. Even the lifeguards in their bright red trunks shifted closer.

Janet assessed the growing crowd, standing on tiptoes to see over or around some of the men. “Lieutenant Astor, General Kerrigan, will you be judges at this end?” 

Astor looked shocked but stepped forward. Kerrigan grinned and took his place.

While Makepeace and his team sorted out their order, O’Neill addressed his team. “Carter, you go, then Teal’c. Daniel, you’re our anchor.”

Sam ignored a muttered comment from Makepeace about the anchor weighing down the team. Daniel didn’t react. Maybe he hadn’t heard the insult. But he was getting really good at playing poker, so she couldn’t be sure.

“Everyone ready?” Janet checked each team. “Take your places.”

Sam climbed onto the starting block, grateful to go first and get her lap over with before she could get nervous. She didn’t want to be the weak link and reinforce Makepeace’s low opinion of women on a front line unit. If she fell behind, maybe her guys could make it up in their laps.

Lieutenant Meyer took his place on the starting block next to Sam’s. He rubbed his hands together in glee before making a gesture that indicated she was going down.

Sam shook her head. Men. She adjusted her goggles and breathed deep as she stretched her shoulders.

“On your mark!” Janet shouted. Sam bent her knees and gripped the front of the block with her fingers and toes. “Get set! Go!” 

Sam dove in. She found her rhythm easily and let the rush of adrenaline push her faster than she had gone in her workout laps. She tried to keep good form so her strokes would be efficient, and when she had to breathe turned her head away from her opponent so she wouldn’t be distracted. It was a race against herself. Not Marines vs. Air Force, or men vs. women, or even SG-3 vs. SG-1. Just trying to beat her personal best record. Still she could hear shouts from the pool deck – encouragement as well as insults directed at both racers. She tried to ignore them.

She executed a tuck-and-flip turn. From the corner of her eye she saw Ferretti giving her a thumbs-up as she emerged heading the other direction … and couldn’t help seeing Meyer’s legs. He was almost half a length ahead of her. She kicked harder, digging deep for reserves of strength, propelling her arms as fast as she could go.

She slapped her palm on the wall and Teal’c dove in above her. Johnson was a full length ahead of Teal’c. “Damn,” she said between panting breaths.

O’Neill reached a hand down and pulled her all the way up to the deck in one motion.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, gasping for breath, watching half of SG-3 clap Meyer on the back.

“What? Why?” he said. “Meyer’s got six inches and thirty pounds of muscle on you. You did great, Carter.” He patted her upper arm, then took his place on the starting block.

“Don’t worry about it, Sam,” Daniel said. “You did fine.”

Efficient was not a word to describe Teal’c or Johnson’s mechanics. They splashed so much as they slapped the water with each stroke she couldn’t see their faces. Both big men, they did an open turn at the far side rather than the more efficient tuck-and-flip, and headed back. 

Johnson touched the wall a length and a half ahead of Teal’c, and Webber dove in from a standing position on the block. O’Neill crouched down as Teal’c approached. As soon as he touched the wall, O’Neill exploded into a textbook-perfect dive off the block that bespoke experience and training. He torpedoed through the water, arms straight ahead, hands together, and began to dolphin kick his way to the surface. When he came up, he used efficient, clean strokes that barely stirred the surface.

Janet came up beside Sam and draped a towel over her shoulders, patting her arms in the process. “Thanks,” Sam murmured.

O’Neill reached the far side and tucked, his neon green butt breaking the surface as he flipped, before he pushed off and rolled onto his front, resuming his powerful strokes.

Unfortunately Webber also had good form, and stayed ahead of O’Neill. But his lackadaisical start had cost him. O’Neill was gaining ground.

Daniel took his spot on the starting block, as did Makepeace.

“See you on the other side, Desert Boy,” Makepeace taunted. Webber touched the wall, and Makepeace dove in the same way Webber had.

Sam glanced at Daniel, worried he was upset. No one but the Colonel got away with calling him names like that. But Daniel was grinning as he crouched.

O’Neill touched, and Daniel dove -- the same kind of flawless, powerful dive that had propelled O’Neill forward. The colonel had cut SG-3’s lead to only half a length, making up for Sam’s lap.

Makepeace was built like a linebacker, almost as big a guy as Johnson, and used the same sloppy mechanics. His style would keep him from drowning in an emergency and provide a great cardio workout, but he wasn’t going to win any races with it. Daniel, however, had the sleek build of a running back. He kicked from the hip, getting more power from every leg movement than Makepeace, who tended to break his kick at the knees. Daniel used the same efficient technique that O’Neill did, and had one big advantage over O’Neill: healthy knees. 

Daniel executed a beautiful tuck-and-flip turn that had Janet murmuring in pleasure when his butt briefly broke the surface. He made a powerful push off the wall with his feet and was in the process of rolling to his front as Makepeace approached the wall. Sam didn’t think Makepeace’s mouth fell open just to take a breath. She allowed a spark of hope to flare in her chest that they might actually win.

Makepeace made the same clunky open turn at the wall as Johnson had and headed back. As soon as he’d touched, Griff and Ferretti hurried around the side of the pool so they could see the race’s finish.

“That’s it, Daniel,” O’Neill said beside Sam at the pool’s edge. “Nice and clean. Keep coming. You can do it.”

The farther Daniel swam, the more he increased his lead on Makepeace. One length stretched to two. “Come on, Daniel!” Sam shouted. She wanted to jump up and down. Yes, yes! He was going to win!

“Look at that puffed out chest,” Griff said looking at O’Neill, just loud enough only the immediate circle of people could hear him. “You’d think he's the one who taught Jackson how to swim.”

Ferretti stared between O’Neill and Daniel in the water. “Did you?”

O’Neill spared them a glance, brown eyes twinkling with mischief. Or sarcasm, Sam was never sure which to expect. “I made sure he knew how to swim in case of a water landing,” he said, matching Griff’s quiet volume.

“And you’re a great swim coach because…?” Ferretti said.

“High school swim team,” O’Neill said. “State champs my junior and senior year.” He shrugged at the gaping stares. “Was something to do in the off-season from hockey.”

Griff and Ferretti’s laughter almost drowned out Meyer’s muttered, “We’ve been had.”

Sam knew the Colonel had also joined the dive team briefly but gave it up after he hit his head on the diving board and his mom, attending practice that day, had freaked out at all the blood. He’d shared the story the night they were comparing scars after Daniel got shot in the leg by Trofsky’s Jaffa. After a few beers, Daniel had even persuaded O’Neill to show them his scar – a long thin bald spot across the back of his skull, not usually visible even with a short military haircut. Sam didn’t say anything, knowing Ferretti would likely make some crack about O’Neill having brain damage from the head injury.

By the time Daniel reached the wall, he had extended his lead so far he was able to hop up to sit on the edge and take off his goggles. General Kerrigan lifted Daniel’s left arm in the air, officially declaring SG-1 the winner. Sam heard groans mixed in with the cheers. Daniel’s harsh breathing was already calming before Makepeace touched the wall. When he saw how badly Daniel had beaten him, he slapped the water in frustration.

“New York strip,” Daniel said when Makepeace finally looked up at him. “Medium rare.”

Makepeace slowly shook his head in wonder. “You got it, Doctor J.”

Teal’c and O’Neill both grabbed Daniel under his arms and lifted him to his feet, clapping him on the back. Others stepped forward to pat him on the shoulder or ruffle his hair as well as offer verbal congratulations. Daniel’s cheeks flushed red from embarrassment. Sam grabbed a clean towel and elbowed her way through the crowd to him.

”Thanks, Sam.” He hid his face in the towel, taking way longer than necessary to dry his face. The crowd took the hint and began to dissipate. 

“How did you know?” Janet said. She stood beside Sam, a towel wrapped around her torso, as she studied O’Neill’s face. “How did you know SG-1 could beat Makepeace and his Marines?”

O’Neill shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t.”

Janet’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You were bluffing?” 

O’Neill looked up at the ceiling for a moment, lips pursed in thought. “Good guess, more like. I figured Carter and I could hold our own against Webber and Meyer. Also figured Makepeace and Johnson would attack the water, like Teal’c. No offense, big guy.”

“None taken, O’Neill. Swimming is a relatively new skill with which I still lack proficiency.” 

“And I knew Daniel would have better technical form than probably anyone else.” O’Neill turned to Daniel. “Shame you didn’t get to learn how to swim when you were a kid. Probably could have won a bunch of blue ribbons when you were in school.”

Bright spots of color began to bloom in Daniel’s cheeks again.

“So, Daniel,” Janet said. “Was it wanting to teach the Marines a lesson, or the desire for a steak, that motivated you most?”

“Yes.” Daniel gave a fleeting grin. “Had to replace the transmission in my Jeep this month, so money’s a little tight. But I’m in the mood for a good steak.”

“It’s going to be a great steak,” O’Neill said. “Going to taste like victory.”

Daniel nodded, then slipped off his towel and dropped it onto the starting block, and headed over to the pool.

“Where you goin’?”

“Still have eighteen laps to do, Jack.”

O’Neill nodded approval, and he and Teal’c also approached the pool.

Sam sighed, dropped her towel on the block, and walked over to the pool’s edge at the next lane. She and Daniel shared a smile before they both dove in.

Later she and Janet had appointments for a mani-pedi and plans for lunch at a Greek diner that recently opened. Tonight she’d enjoy a free steak dinner at O’Malley’s. 

But for now, she still had twenty-one laps to go.

Make that twenty.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by A.) a hot afternoon cooling off in our backyard pool and B.) an interview with RDA wherein he told about joining his high school swim team after his hockey aspirations were dashed by breaking both arms. No idea how his team did. I should probably kill my darling paragraph about Jack on the dive team, inspired by a story RDA shared. He really did hit his head on the diving board and bleed copiously, but he didn't say how his mom reacted. But I like it, so it stayed.
> 
> And I can totally see Jack making sure early on that Daniel the civilian had the skills he needed to survive on a front-line military team, such as hand to hand combat, firearms, and swimming -- for his safety as well as for the rest of the team.


End file.
